Christmas with a SEAL

by Tawny Weber

GOD, HE HATED THIS.

  What in the hell had happened to his tidy, controlled, well-planned life?

  Frustration powering every step, Phillip paced from one end of his makeshift office to the other.

  Here he was, stuck in Maryland instead of implementing the biggest mission of his career. And it was all because the powers that be—powers whose judgment he’d once respected—had deemed him unqualified to participate.

  Stuck in a house that stood as a reminder of family expectations and demands. Demands that weighed on him, heavier every day. Expectations that he had clearly not reached.

  Stuck at the training center on his day off.

  His stride hitched a little at that one.

  Yeah, that one was on him.

  He dropped into the chair in front of his desk, scrubbing his hands over his face.

  Everything had been great. Until Frankie had started talking about Christmas. First it was decorating, next it would be entertaining. Finding the perfect gift.

  God, he hated the holidays.

  Now more than ever for their role in disrupting a morning that had started off with great sex.

  Phillip gave up on doing his paperwork and headed for the gym. An hour later, still frustrated and sporting a bruise on his chin because he’d let his guard down while sparring, he got in the shower.

  He considered hitting the shooting range, but in his current state of mind he’d only be a menace. Instead, Phillip headed back to his office. He returned a few salutes along the way, but nobody spoke to him.

  Not surprising. He was a superior officer with a reputation for being a stickler for protocol. His call sign wasn’t “sir” for nothing.

  But for the first time in his life, he felt lonely.

  He missed his team.

  Feeling like a sap, tired of being bombarded by all these unwelcome emotions, Phillip stood in the middle of his office with his fists clenched. He wanted to pound the desk, to throw it out the window. His desolation was drowned by fury, now as familiar as his once-touted control.

  It took three harsh breaths and a reminder that he was a SEAL for him to regain control. Another breath to shake off the nasty buzzing left by the onslaught.

  Damned if practice didn’t pay off. It usually took him a lot longer to shake off these feelings. He mentally dismissed the incident, then looked around the cramped beige room.

  What to do next... He debated whether he should work on his lousy presentation or head home and deal with the godforsaken Christmas decorations.

  The phone rang.

  “Banks,” he said as he picked it up, wondering who could be calling.

  “Would that be the Phillip Banks, super SEAL?” a husky female voice asked.

  It was as if the sun peeked out from behind the storm clouds. It didn’t chase them away, but it did offer a welcome warmth.

  “Lara?” Phillip found himself grinning as he dropped into the chair. “What are you calling for?”

  “Can’t a sister call her big brother without a reason?”

  Phillip pondered the question, then shook his head.

  “Pretty sure this is the first time you’ve ever called, so I’d have to say no.”

  “Not true. I called you for a ride home when I was fourteen and that creep dumped me for not putting out.”

  “But that was a reason.”

  “Aren’t you smart.” She laughed. “Fine, so I have a reason.”

  Phillip waited. He could almost hear her teeth grinding as Lara did the same thing. He knew she could out-stubborn him. Hell, Lara could out-stubborn the whole world. But he had a wealth of patience at his fingertips.

  “What’s the reason?” he asked.

  “The holidays, of course.”

  “What?” Phillip groaned, pressing his fingertips against his eyelids. “Why? What is with everyone wanting to talk about the holidays all of a sudden?”

  “Because it’s holiday time,” she said. “Just because we don’t like them doesn’t mean the rest of the world isn’t on board.”

  “I’m pretty sure if the rest of the world jumped off a bridge, we’d wave goodbye instead of joining them,” he pointed out.

  “Oh, now, that’s cold,” Lara said with a delighted laugh. “And usually I’d agree.”

  “But you’re making an exception now,” he mused, relaxing as he kicked his feet out in front of him and leaned back in the chair. “The more important question would be why you want to talk about this with me?”

  “I married Dominic Castillo.”

  “Indeed you did, in what can only be described as the weirdest wedding ever.” He sat upright, tension gathering in his shoulders. “Is there a problem? Has he done something?”

  “No, of course not,” she dismissed easily. Easily enough to allay Phillip’s concern. He settled back in the chair again, not quite ready to relax.

  “Then what’s the issue? Is this about my not staying for cake?” His reason for leaving had been much more delicious than cake, he remembered.

  “No, but I wouldn’t mind hearing the reason you skipped out. Rumor is you left with a woman,” she teased, sounding half amused, half intrigued.

  Phillip tensed again. Not because he was ashamed of his relationship with Frankie. He simply didn’t like the idea of her being the subject of gossip.

  “Well?” Lara prodded.

  “Well, what? Don’t you have rumors to go on?”

  “SEALs are lousy at gossip. I heard there was a woman involved from one of Castillo’s cousins, but apparently nobody else saw or heard a thing. To hear the team tell, you might not have even been in Las Vegas.” Her huff came through loud and clear.

  Phillip grinned. Damned if the team didn’t come through time and time again.

  “Okay, fine, don’t tell me anything. I’ll find out eventually. Anyway, that’s not the reason I called.” He heard her take a deep breath. “I have to spend Christmas with Dominic’s family. His entire family. Do you know how many of them there are? Dozens. Probably hundreds. They’re all friendly and talkative and, you know, touchy-feely. They’re always giving hugs or patting each other on the back. They actually like people.”

  Frankie was the same way. Except he wasn’t uncomfortable when she touched him. He enjoyed her bubbly conversation and easy way with people.

  But understanding didn’t mean he should let Lara off the hook.

  “Scared?” he teased, enjoying his feisty sister’s discomfort in a way only a brother could.

  “I’m not scared,” she snapped. “I’m simply nervous.”

  “If I were stuck in a room filled with people who talk as much as Castillo, I’d be nervous, too.” Phillip laughed.

  “Will you come?” she blurted out. “Please, join us.”

  Hell, no.

  “I’m not flying to California to spend Christmas with strangers.”

  “I’m not a stranger.”

  He could hear it in her voice. The plea for reassurance that she was right.

  “No,” he agreed softly. “You’re my sister. But you’re building a new life with your husband. This is for the two of you to do.”

  “The two of us and dozens of others,” she muttered.

  “Lara, you’ve dined with senators, danced for aristocrats. You’ve kicked bullies’ asses and stood up to the biggest hard-ass around, our father. You can do this.”

  “That was before,” Lara said, her voice as close to a whine as he’d ever heard. “This matters. I don’t want to disappoint Dominic.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. The guy loves you, Lara. You could declare a war on Christmas and outlaw beer and he’d still love you.”

  “That’s a lot of love,” she said with a husky laugh.

  The janitor walked in, st
opped short at the sight of Phillip, then turned to leave. Phillip lifted one finger to halt his departure.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he told Lara, actually regretting putting an end to their conversation.

  “Hey,” she said quietly before he could hang up.

  “What?”

  “Take care, okay?”

  Phillip stared at the phone, the old-fashioned dial tone echoing through the room.

  Take care.

  If she’d reached through the line to grab him up into a big hug and declared the depth of her sisterly love for him, he couldn’t have been more surprised.

  Or more touched.

  He blew out a breath and carefully returned the receiver to its cradle.

  It was weird, he decided, gathering his paperwork to leave.

  They’d grown up practically strangers in the same house, Lara totally focused on dance, him on school. He’d been at Annapolis when she’d run away at sixteen, but it had been a year before he’d actually found out. Even then he only had because Mrs. O’Brian had told him when he’d gone home for the holidays.

  Now he felt a love for his sister he hadn’t known was there. Seeing her happiness, her devotion to her husband, it gave him hope that he had that inside him, as well.

  He thought of Frankie back at the house, wearing nothing but his shirt. Maybe he did have something to give her after all.

  10

  “YOU MADE THIS?”

  As overjoyed with Phillip’s impressed expression as she was with the necklace she’d spent the afternoon crafting, Frankie all but danced in front of him.

  “You like?” she asked, trying to sound offhand. As if the first truly gorgeous piece to come from her imagination in months wasn’t a big deal.

  “It’s stunning.” He held it up to eye level so the overhead lights glinted off the burnished silver strands, producing a rainbow effect. The orb wasn’t onyx as she’d originally imagined it. Instead, she’d used hematite and loved the way the metallic sheen of the gem reflected the silver swirls.

  “It’s the best thing I’ve made in a long time. I have the perfect client for it, too,” she said, giving up trying to stay calm. Especially since, after texting the potential client a photo, she’d gotten an instant reply demanding an appointment on Monday to see the necklace in person.

  “I had no idea this was what you meant when you said you worked in silver.” He gently, almost reverently, laid the piece back on the velvet stand, then gave Frankie an assessing look. “Lara’s necklace at her wedding. You made that.”

  Wow, those were some serious observation skills if he remembered what his sister had worn two months ago.

  Even though it wasn’t a question, she nodded. “It was my gift to her. Most brides would go with pearls or something softer, but she wanted something more, well, her.”

  “Edgy, sharp and out of the ordinary?” he asked.

  He really did remember Lara’s necklace.

  Delighted, Frankie wrapped her arms around his waist and stood on tiptoe to plant a smacking kiss on his cheek.

  “Exactly,” she agreed. “Now, we have a bet, don’t we?”

  “We do?”

  “Cookies. If you’re blown away by my cookies, we do whatever I want this evening.”

  “And if I’m not?”

  “We do whatever you want.”

  His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her tight against his body.

  “What are the chances we both want to do the same thing?” he wondered.

  “I’d say the odds are high,” she murmured just before his mouth took hers.

  Mmm, he was so delicious.

  Her body hummed its appreciation. Oh, yeah, they both definitely wanted to do the same thing. Frankie started to sink into the kiss, then stopped.

  Her body protested, lips shifting into a pout at the loss of his mouth.

  She definitely wanted him. Wanted to celebrate a great day the same way they’d enjoyed the great night.

  But if they did it now, it would ruin her plan.

  Operation: Christmas.

  Her little thank-you to Phillip for hours of pleasure, for unleashing her creative juices, and, well, because everyone deserved a great Christmas.

  She had it all figured out.

  But unlike Phillip, she didn’t have a contingency plan.

  Still, she had to force herself to pull her lips away from his. And even then she couldn’t resist another tiny nibble.

  “Mmm, c’mon,” she said, pulling out of his arms but grabbing his hand. “Cookie time.”

  “I’m willing to concede if we can keep kissing,” he told her.

  “Tempting,” she said with a laugh, pulling him from the parlor toward the kitchen. “But I spent a lot of time on these, so you have to at least taste one.”

  “You had time to make that necklace and cookies?” He sounded impressed.

  Frankie started to brush it off as if it was no big deal. But dammit, it was a huge deal. She’d made one of the best pieces of her career. One that reflected her taste, showed her vision. She was superstitious enough to believe that if she didn’t celebrate it, didn’t show her gratitude, then the creativity fairies would snatch the energy right back, making it the last worthy piece she’d make.

  Suddenly desperate to show she appreciated him for being her inspiration, she veered in the opposite direction, pulling Phillip with her.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Your bedroom.” She shot a teasing smile over her shoulder. “You can concede I’m the champion there.”

  He moved so fast, she swore he left smoke in his wake. One second she was laughingly pulling him along, the next he had her against the wall. His mouth ravaged; his hands flew over her body, hot and wild.

  She barely had time to think, her body simply took over. Aroused beyond belief, her hands matched his pace, fingers scraping over flesh in her hurry to shove his clothes aside.

  Her sweater flew one way, his shirt the other.

  His mouth followed the path of her jeans as he swept them down her legs. Then his lips were on hers again, his rock-hard body anchoring her to the wall.

  Panting, desperate, her climax beckoning, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

  She had to have him.

  Now. Right now.

  As if he heard her thoughts, Phillip shifted.

  “Now you can concede that I’m the champion,” he said just before plunging into her welcoming body.

  The instant he slammed home, her body shattered.

  Stars exploded behind Frankie’s eyes. Her breath came in pants as the orgasm rolled over and over her body.

  Just as she started to mellow, as the sensations evened out and her system came back on line, she felt him stiffen. His moves grew sharper, faster. Her body responded, amping up again.

  Phillip buried his face in her shoulder and gave a low growl.

  Then he came.

  Now, that was the way to celebrate, she thought just before going over the edge again.

  * * *

  TWO HOURS, A SHOWER and half a dozen cookies later, Frankie was pretty sure this was the best day of her life.

  “You need new furniture.” Curled against Phillip on the world’s most uncomfortable couch, she tucked her bare feet under her.

  “I don’t think anyone has ever actually sat on this before,” he observed, looking around the antiques-filled room. The television was the only modern thing in it. Which was probably why it had been hidden behind cabinet doors.

  “Where did you watch TV when you were growing up?” she wondered.

  “At friends’ houses? Or if it was something important, like a presidential address or something, I’d watch in Father’s study.” He gave her a dr
y look. “More convenient for the discussion period that inevitably followed.”

  Frankie’s heart ached. The poor guy, he’d never had a chance just to be a kid. To enjoy the simple things in life like a mindless comedy or cookies for breakfast or, well, Christmas.

  He needed her.

  She could give him all of those things. Fun and joy and simple pleasures.

  Not forever, of course.

  She knew the novelty of what she had to offer wouldn’t hold Phillip’s attention for long. But for now...

  Her eyes burning, Frankie blinked hard and took a shaky breath.

  For now, he needed her.

  “Did Lara join in the discussions?” she wondered, trying to keep the conversation light.

  “Lara? Of course not. She’s female. What would she possibly have to contribute to any discussion about politics,” he said in a deep imitation of his father’s uptight tone.

  “Was he really that bad?” Frankie wondered. She’d always thought so. But maybe he’d been different with Phillip.

  “Bad? I wouldn’t say he was that. More that he was a man with very firmly held beliefs and expectations. He wasn’t abusive. He was a generous provider and an involved father.”

  “Was he a good father?” Frankie asked quietly.

  “I never had reason to believe otherwise. Then again, I met his expectations. Lara would obviously have a different opinion. And with good reason,” Phillip admitted quietly. “She called today.”

  “Lara?” Frankie shifted to better see his face. “How was the honeymoon?”

  He winced so painfully she barely managed to bite back her grin.

  “Why would you ask that? How would I know? Why would I want to know? Please, don’t put those images in my head.”

  Frankie couldn’t help it—she had to laugh and pat his cheek.

  “You’re a good big brother,” she decided.

  “Me?” He looked baffled. “Hardly.”

  “I’ll bet Lara would say different.”

  “After I refused to join her crazy in-laws’ holiday festivities? Doubtful.”

  Frankie wanted to ask why he’d refused. She wanted to believe it had something to do with spending the holidays here with her. But she was a smart girl. She’d just entertain the fantasy instead of asking to have her bubble burst.